But fierce Desire, that raging fire, still clamours to be fed
by talentedgemx
Summary: So after I saw the series 3 trailer and of course those first couple of clips, this popped into my head. What happens after Clarke presses that blade against Lexa's throat? Here are my musings... Angst a plenty and deep characterisation as you would expect from my stories.


Lexa stared at Clarke's eyes for a long time. She saw the warring there. The conflicting emotions. The flickering between her desire to push the knife harder and not push it at all. Lexa remained still, though, her chin raised to let Clarke do what she must. She felt like she knew what that was but it was a risk nonetheless, and the Commander didn't like to gamble.

The longer she stared the more she felt it. Felt every shred of Clarke's pain with every tremble of her lip and breathy exhale as she wrestled with what to do. Finally Lexa swallowed and although she didn't blink, her jawline twitched a little, the wall at her back never so solid and Clarke's hand at the side of her neck never so cold. She felt the tension in Clarke's fingers and she felt herself give way, just a little, seemingly not able to remain as stoic and unmoved in this meeting as she'd hoped.

It was Clarke, and that emotion Lexa could always read was right back across every inch of her face. Set deep in her eyes and if it didn't affect Lexa so much she would be angry at herself, ridiculing herself for being so sentimental. But it was _Clarke_. The same Clarke as before just more angry. Furious, even, and she was furious at _her_ so the least Lexa could do was let her be.

Being in Clarke's arms was something Lexa had thought of, occasionally, in her quieter moments but never for long before she dismissed it as pointless. As fruitless, and something that only made her chest hurt needlessly. Hurt and lurch and descend her into nothingness.

The Commander's brow flickered a little as she once again tried to dismiss it but simultaneously considered that this was probably the best she was ever going to get and however sardonically, that thought made her being _ache_.

"I should kill you," Clarke forced eventually, her voice scratchy, the words coming out through clenched teeth and the blade nicked at Lexa's skin with the venom behind them.

Lexa just pushed forward a little, her breaths coming hard as she continued to peer intently at the waivering girl in front of her. She tried to catch Clarke's gaze but Clarke did everything to avoid it. She didn't want to look at the Commander. She couldn't; not for more than a fraction of a second. She used to get lost in those searching green eyes and she didn't want to again.

Lexa just swallowed again and she felt it all the way down to her stomach. There was so much she could say to Clarke, so much she wished she had the words for but instead she stayed quiet, and waited for Clarke to make the first move.

Clarke felt herself crumbling. Felt herself giving in but she fought it. Fought it valiantly as she kept pressing the blade to Lexa's throat and kept her pinned to the wall with her forearm. Her other hand gripping tightly at the side of Lexa's neck and Clarke swore the Commander's skin felt like fire.

It made Clarke's forehead furrow, her tongue repeatedly swiping across her lips every now and then. Her body felt jittery, her fist that held the knife almost white with intent. Or restraint. Clarke couldn't quite tell the difference. She didn't know what she wanted. She knew she should _want_ to kill Lexa, she had thought about it before. She left her, after all. She left them all and now she was standing here, looking exactly like she did before. The softness in her eyes _just_ as it was before but it wasn't enough. It would never be. Clarke was _angry_ , and she wanted revenge.

"I am sorry, Clarke," Lexa whispered, and it startled Clarke from her thought process. Surprised her out of her previous plotting; of what perhaps, she _should_ be doing in this likely rare moment of the Commander displaying such vulnerability.

Her eyes immediately flicked to Lexa's and then she was caught. She swallowed heavily and her throat felt raw at the sincerity that she saw there; at Lexa's utter submission to this moment.

Quickly Clarke felt dismantled, the tension between them undeniable and then Clarke knew she couldn't. That she wasn't this person, not the type for cold-blooded revenge. Or at least, not against Lexa.

Because she was _Lexa_.

Clarke gasped, just a little. Her brow knitting together as the way Lexa was looking at her, like she could see right the way to her soul reminded her of months before. Of being stood inside the Commander's tent just before Lexa kissed her, and it was just the affection Clarke _needed_ even though she didn't know she wanted it. Someone who cared about her and wanted her and was _sorry_ and it just broke her. Pretty much, and she whimpered softly, her gaze finally deviating slightly from Lexa's eyes.

Lexa saw how Clarke's disposition changed and she reached up and pulled Clarke's arm away from her chest, the knife away from her throat and Clarke fell easily, just as her arm fell away from her, into Lexa's chest.

The knife clattered to the floor but Clarke's hand came straight back up though, and she balled it into a fist and thumped it against Lexa's breastbone, as her forehead rested against her shoulder.

Clarke didn't cry, she wouldn't, but she squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered, just a little, pushing gasps out through clenched teeth. The frustration burning deep within her. Her anger turning inwards and she would be furious with herself, she _should_ be furious with herself if she didn't crave this embrace so damned much. She felt it evenly in her chest, her stomach churning, her skin crawling or tingling or something Clarke couldn't quite place. It was almost too much and she thought for a moment, she should just give in.

Lexa could sense the indecision but she wrapped her arms around Clarke nevertheless, and held her like she has wanted to for the longest time. Since she first saw the pain in those big, blue eyes.

Lexa exhaled, and tried to offer a calmness she knew Clarke didn't possess. Not right then. Probably not for a while and when she spoke Lexa felt more than heard the emotion in her own voice. It made her flinch a little at the weakness there. Lexa was hardened to being vulnerable but for some reason with Clarke, it wasn't quite so bad. It was bearable. 

"I did what I had to..." she said, her chin against Clarkes forehead, her eyes more than adamant even though Clarke couldn't see them. Her one hand cupped the back of Clarke's head and Lexa played her fingers ever so gently into the base of her skull. Her fingertips making a slight pattern as she rubbed them gently into the blonde strands of hair. "...Not what I wanted to."

And it sparked something in Clarke, her eyes fluttering open as she remembered her own words to Niylah, back in her tent and then she relaxed. Letting the Commander's warmth and sincerely wrap around her, as strong as her arms were at her back.

Clarke's fist weakened and her fingers stretched across the Commander's chest, her thumb moving a little across the fabric of her coat as Clarke turned her face into Lexa's neck, sighing like she had no fight left. Like she didn't want to fight, not then, and not with _her_.

Lexa felt it, so she held her even tighter and for a split second, in a moment as rare as she ever felt them she didn't want to be the Commander anymore. Not while this girl was in her arms.

"Forgive me..." Lexa whispered, feeling Clarke's lips part against her skin and it made her swallow, rough and ragged and she struggled to contain her emotions as something scorching rocketed down to her core. A warmth spreading in her chest that she'd not felt since she kissed Clarke, what felt like an absolute lifetime ago.

Lexa closed her eyes. Squeezed them shut and then her voice lowered to a rumble. "...Beja, Klark." Because she knew she'd never be able to forgive herself.

Clarke didn't know if she could. Wasn't sure what the implications were or how she would feel once she was out of this embrace but for the moment, she just snaked her arms around Lexa's waist and held her just as tightly back.

She sighed again into Lexa's neck and she felt the Commander shudder, just a bit and Clarke couldn't believe how comfortable she felt. How safe and it was absurd, really. Safe in the arms of her betrayer but the truth was, she felt _this_ for Lexa and there was no denying it. She sparked something inside of her, and it made Clarke want more. She felt it now, stirring in the pit of her stomach and it made her fingers dig harder into the clothes at Lexa's back. It made Clarke lick her lips and want to taste the Commander's skin and right then she inhaled deeply, and breathed her in. Lexa's scent coating her insides and it was soothing and sensual all at once and so she couldn't hate her. Couldn't kill her, she knew that all along, really, and she supposed so did the Commander. It was a rouse, really, for Lexa to know how much she'd hurt her, but Clarke suspected she already knew that too. It was obvious in the way she was holding her. Stroking the back of her head; gripping at the coat at her back.

The hardest thing about betrayal of course, was that it never came from enemies.

Clarke closed her eyes once more and just sank into the moment for however long Lexa would let it. For however long Lexa would let her breathe her in and before she knew it, Clarke was pressing her lips into Lexa's skin.


End file.
